


Middle

by Jairissa



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-28
Updated: 2011-11-28
Packaged: 2017-10-26 15:28:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/284866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jairissa/pseuds/Jairissa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Facing the loss of everything he loved, Harry finally realised where he fit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Middle

**Author's Note:**

> Written pre-DH, so is only canon through HBP.

The Burrow had become entirely too quiet. During the days of the war Harry had become used to living with the entire Weasley family, alternating between his house at Grimmauld Place and theirs at The Burrow. He had become used to Molly and Arthur's small displays of concern and affection, Fred and George's laughter, Charlie's grumpiness before his first coffee. To Ginny's glares and finally moving on, Bill and Fleur's rare presence at the table that was filled with the bliss of newlyweds when they did appear. He had, most importantly, become used to sharing a room with his best friends to help fend off the nightmares.

It was almost silent now. Ginny had returned to Hogwarts, Fred and George to their shop, Charlie to Romania, Bill and Fleur to their own flat in London. Even Ron and Hermione had left to go back for their seventh year. It was only Harry who had stayed with Molly and Arthur, not out of a desire to be here, but out of a sheer lack of motivation to do anything else. He didn't particularly wish to be an Auror anymore; he had done enough of that. He couldn't think of any other career that interested him. So he had remained, spending his days helping around the house, flying, occasionally reading or walking.

He had originally come out to this hill to fly, to feel the wind around his face, but had found himself too tired. He couldn't sleep anymore, alone in his room. It was too quiet without the soft breathing, quiet sighs and occasional murmurs of Ron and Hermione. The bed too big without one or both of them squeezed in to make sure that his dreams didn't disturb him too badly. He missed them with a desperation that he didn't have a definition for, but when they had told him they wanted to go back he hadn't been able to think of a non-selfish answer to stop them. They had their own dreams, futures they wanted to pursue and so he had let them go to do as they had always wanted to. Instead he caught small moments of sleep through the day, whenever he didn't think we would be missed. Which is why he lay on the hill outside the Burrow, in the light of the setting sun, eyes closed, mind drifting.

He heard footsteps behind him, realised it had gotten later than he thought and he should go back. It was Mr or Mrs Weasley again, worried about him. He hated disappointing them, hated the sad look in their eyes when they were reminded that they couldn't make him happy. But it wasn't Mrs Weasley's concern or Mr Weasley's calm acceptance that greeted him. It was a warm hand, brushing his hair away from his face, a soft kiss being pressed to his brow. His eyes opened slowly, meeting the warm brown ones of Hermione, the kind blue ones of Ron. They were holding hands, making official what Harry had always dreaded. Harry had never known whether it was Hermione or Ron that he wanted. He eventually came to the conclusion that it was both, in different ways, and he would never be able to have either of them.

"Is it holidays already?" Harry asked confused. Surely it had only been weeks since they had left, not the months that the Christmas holidays would take. And wouldn't Ginny be there too, with everyone else? They had all agreed to meet here during the holidays, yet it only seemed to be the two of them.

"Molly owled us," Hermione said as she lay down next to Harry. "She said that you were unhappy, that neither of them were able to find any way to cheer you up anymore."

"We're worried about you, mate," Ron added, as he settled on Harry's other side. "We got permission from McGonagall to come see you, see if maybe you'd come back to Hogwarts with us. Or...well..."

"Or perhaps we'd come back here to stay with you," Hermione said. "We can easily finish our education by correspondence; take our NEWTS some other way. There are always provisions that can be made for that."

Harry opened his mouth, tried to tell them again what he had weeks earlier, that they had their own lives to live and that they shouldn't give them up for him, but the words wouldn't come. Instead he found himself rolling over to bury his head into Hermione's shoulder, feeling Ron move to wrap his arms around the both of them.

"Please stay," Harry whispered.

***

Things quickly began to feel as they always had again. He would fall asleep at night to the sound of Ron and Hermione breathing, or kissing, wake up to feel Hermione cuddling in his arms, Ron curved up against his back. He found himself smiling more easily, finding joy in Quidditch, losing games of Wizards Chess and reading the textbooks that were foisted on him by Hermione. He was informed that he would be taking his Newts, whether he liked it or not, and anything else he chose to do from there could be decided after the exams.

He tried to feel guilty, tried to care at all that he had once again dragged his best friends into his problems, but Ron and Hermione made it difficult. They were always so happy to see him, so happy to drag him into what must have been their personal time. He supposed they must be finding some time to spend alone together, although Harry could never quite work out when. They were with him every second but their relationship never seemed to suffer for it. He wondered how they could stand spending so much time with him, but rather than ever answering the question when he asked it of them they would roll their eyes, tell him to stop being ridiculous and go back to what they had been doing before.

It eventually occurred to him that perhaps he had just been blind the whole time, but it had taken a while to sink in. He had woken up that morning to the usual feel of two bodies pressed against him. He realised with mortification that his hand was resting not on Hermione's back as it usually did but on her breast, nestled against the fabric of her thin nightgown. He pulled it away quickly, ashamed at the reaction his body had had even from that brief contact, but his movement it seemed had already been enough to wake Hermione. Rather than slap him, push him away as he had expected, she nuzzled closer to him, closing her eyes again.

"It's OK Harry," she whispered sleepily, guiding his hand back to where it had been. Harry looked in horror over his shoulder at her boyfriend but Ron had no reaction other than tightening his arms around Harry's waist.

"I don't want to...I mean you two..."

"You won't, Harry." Ron murmured, his breath tickling Harry's ear. "Hermione's right, it's OK."

Harry looked between Ron and Hermione for a moment wondering when his world had become so surreal, pushing away from them both to stand up. He found himself running, not caring where he was going, that he was still in his pajamas, that it was absolutely freezing outside. He ran until he couldn't breathe, until he collapsed and wretched at the base of a tree. He had no idea how far he'd gone, whether he was still within the grounds of The Burrow. Curling himself into a ball he let the tears fall, for everything he wanted and knew he could never have.

***

The sun had risen to the middle of the sky before Harry could calm himself enough to think properly. He'd known his friends would go to the ends of the earth for him, but this was ridiculous. There was a difference between indulgence and sacrifice, this falling very obviously into the latter category. Harry had thought that he'd hidden his feelings for his best friends reasonably well, but it seems that he wasn't as talented at hiding his emotions as he should have been. Now his friends were sacrificing himself and their happiness for him, as they always did, by including him in something that private and personal, a place he did not belong.

There was only one solution to it, in Harry's mind. He would need to send them back to Hogwarts, forcibly if need be. If he told Professor McGonagall, or even Molly and Arthur, one of them would see his point, make sure Ron and Hermione went where they were safe from him, where they could think about themselves rather than his selfish wants. They could focus on themselves, and their relationship and forget about Harry. Harry would leave The Burrow, where he'd caused nothing but trouble, and go back to Grimmauld Place. He could renew the defences there, make sure that no one but him could get in and just...fade away. The Boy Who Lived could become the Boy Who Won, And Was Never Heard From Again. The Boy Who'd Fulfilled His Purpose.

Standing, brushing off dirt he hadn't realised he'd been covered in, Harry started to make his way back to The Burrow. He had trouble at first, finding his way back when he hadn't been paying attention to how he'd gotten there in the first place, but perservered. He found the route he'd taken almost by accident, noticing it only because a piece of his scant clothing had torn off while he was running. From there it was just a case of walking in a straight line until the high peaks of The Burrow faded back into view.

He poked his head inside the door cautiously, hoping that Molly and Arthur were out. He didn't want to talk to them, didn't want to see the worry in their eyes as they realised he'd done something stupid again. He heard raised voices in the living room, too muffled to hear what they were saying, but loud enough to realise it was Ron and Hermione. He tried to sneak past them and up the stairs to grab his things, but Hermione, as she always did, noticed that he was there.

"Harry!" She sobbed, throwing herself into his arms and Harry felt crushed to see that she'd been crying, hours of tear tracks painted on her face. He looked to Ron helplessly, intending to plea silently for Ron to take care of it, before he saw his best mate looked the same way as Hermione. Miserable, old and new tears on his face, sadness painted onto every feature. "We're sorry, Harry, we are! We thought you wanted it too, we didn't mean to upset you, it won't happen again, we swear."

"Too?" Harry asked numbly, as Hermione sobbed desperately in his arms. "What do you mean too?"

"Well it's always been the three of us, hasn't it?" Ron asked, miserably. "We're nothing without you mate, we just figured you felt the same way."

Harry stared at him, his heart thumping. If it were Hermione he'd be able to convince himself that she were lying to make him feel better. Ron, though...Ron couldn't hide what he was feeling to save his life, had never been able to lie convincingly. He reached a hand up to stroke Hermione's hair, a happiness flaring in him stronger than anything he'd ever felt before.

"I thought you were only doing because I wanted it. I thought you could tell..." He couldn't stop the grin that spread over his face, reaching an arm out to a shocked Ron. Ron shifted off his chair, hesitantly walking over to wrap his arms around Harry and Hermione.

"We're not," Hermione said shaking against him. "We're really not, Harry."

She raised her head from where it was buried in Harry's shoulder, peppering his face with light kisses, soft touches that made Harry's skin flare with fireworks and his bent his head down with a groan, kissing her deeply. He felt Ron take Hermione's former place, head buried in neck, with the exception of the teasing kisses Ron was tormenting Harry with. Breathlessly breaking away from Hermione, Harry tugged lightly on Ron's hair, raising his head to kiss him too, gasping at the difference between the two kisses. Hermione's had been soft, yielding, giving. Ron's was fierce, passionate. He couldn't tell which of them was more intoxicating.

Hermione lay her head on his shoulder, kissing it chastely.

"It will be all right, I promise," she whispered. For the first time, Harry believed her.


End file.
